Why So Devious?
by Dreamer Boy
Summary: Diesel looks back on his life when he was newly built and why he hates steam engines. One shot. Diesel's POV.


**Been way too long since my last Thomas story, huh? Well here's one which is quite short and a bit different to most. It's from Diesel's point of view, and tells us a bit about his back story – one which I have made up. Because of that, he might be a bit out of character. Sorry if he is. :\**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Thomas the Tank Engine. It belongs to HIT Entertainment.**

I stand here, parked in my shed for the night, having spent yet another day, working for the Fat Controller, and at every opportunity, being horrible to the steamies, receiving plenty of different reactions. Today, I was able to make young steamies, like Thomas and Percy, feel sad, when I spoke nastily to them. Arrogant ones, like Gordon and James, always had an answer for whatever I sad to them. Elderly ones, however, like Edward and Toby, are no fun to try and speak badly to, because they take no notice.

Everybody knows me; Devious Diesel, who is nasty to each and every steamie on the Island of Sodor. What nobody knows, however, is that steamies have treated me just as badly too, ever since I came into existence.

I was built in 1953, at some works on a large railway in England. I was the first diesel engine on that railway, as I was on Sodor. Shortly after I was built, the controller of the railway, Albert Matthews, came to see me, and made me feel welcome. He told me I was revolutionary. This made me proud of being a diesel, and happy to have been built.

Mr Matthews took me to meet the other engines, later that day. There were three engines on the railway, all of which were steamies. There was Andrew, a big red 4-6-2 express engine, Sarah, a medium sized green 4-6-0 mixed traffic engine, and Terry, a black 0-4-0 saddle tank engine.

If people were listening to this, they would immediately assume I bullied these steamies as soon as I met them, just for being old. They would be wrong, as I didn't know what to think of them. I was newly built, so I had never met steamies before, nor did I have any idea how they were different to diesel engines.

After Mr Matthews left us alone, I soon learnt what these engines were like. They gave me funny looks, and started to make rude remarks about me, simply because of how I looked. They told me I didn't look how an engine should, and that no one would know what I am. I felt very offended, something which not many people would expect me to feel.

They never gave me an easy time. Every time they would pass me while they pulled a train, they would call me something nasty. I tried to tell Mr Matthews about it, but he just told me that it was because I was a completely new kind of engine; a diesel. As the railway had never had a diesel before, the engines weren't used to having one, but he told me that they would get used to me.

But they didn't. They continued to make my life a misery, telling me I wasn't how an engine should be. Finally, the sadness inside my engine built up into anger, and I decided I should treat them the way they should treat me.

My job was to shunt coaches and trucks for the engines' trains, like Thomas used to do. When I shunted coaches for their passenger trains, I learnt a difference from steamies to diesels; steamies blow smoke and steam. And when they would be waiting at the station, they would blow it all over the passengers on the platform, covering them in soot and making them cross.

I would smirk and tell the steamies how dirty they were, while I was nice and clean and didn't blow smoke. They told me that was what proper engines did, but when I would tell them they were getting old, it would make them cross.

It turned out I was right about them getting old. As time went on, Andrew, whilst pulling the express, began to feel weak. He would struggle when pulling long lines of coaches, often having wheel slips. And over time, his express trains would have fewer coaches. When he had gone from pulling seven to three, he began leaking steam every time he would puff along.

Finally, when he was down to being unable to pull more than two coaches, he broke down, slowing to a stop, never to move on his own again. I had to be the one to pull him to the works, sneering in his smokebox, telling him he was too old to be useful.

I was proved right again. That evening, at the works, Andrew was examined, and the workmen told Mr Matthews that they couldn't fix him. So Mr Matthews told Andrews and the rest of us engines that he was going to have to scrap Andrew. Andrew and the other two steam engines were devastated. Mr Matthews showed no emotion. No one noticed the smirk that crept upon my face.

Andrew was loaded onto a flatbed and, after tearfully saying goodbye to Sarah and Terry, was pulled to the scrap yard by me. I enjoyed seeing him cry on the way and I told him he was going to get exactly what he deserved. I told him I was glad I wasn't a steamie like him, because they were getting too old, and would one day be scrapped.

When we arrived at the scrap yard, the owner came out and looked at the old steam engine on my flatbed. "Ahh, an old steam engine. Broken down and too old to be useful," he mused, and turned to me. "Not like you new diesel engines."

My smirk widened and Andrew sniffled. He was taken off the flatbed and loaded onto a low loader, which took him into the scrap yard. As I had no work to do for the rest of the day, I stay where I was and listened, enjoyed the sound of deathful screams as Andrew was melted down.

Sarah, Terry and I had to carry on working on the railway, much harder, since we were on engine down. Sarah and Terry would still try to bully me, but now I was able to defend myself. I told them how one day, they would be scrapped, just like Andrew, which made them shudder, so they were mean to me a lot less.

In 1957, I was in the works, one day, being oiled, when Mr Matthews came over to be with a fat man dressed in a black coat, grey trousers, cream waistcoat, black tie and top hat. This was, as people recognise, the Fat Controller. He was here, because he was looking to buy an engine, and Mr Matthews was showing me to him. Having never seen a diesel engine up close, he was very interested by me, but wasn't sure, as he said he preferred steamies. So Mr Matthews agreed to let him have me for a trial, and the following day, I was shipped to my current home; Sodor.

The next part of my story is what most everyone already knows. When I arrived on Sodor, it only had steamies there, like my old railway. Three of them, Gordon, Henry and James, made me feel welcome, but a fourth, Duck, decided he didn't like me instantly. I was determined to show him what diesels could do, but ended up humiliating myself by trying to pull a line of trucks which wouldn't move, and having trucks laugh and sing at me.

After that, also what everyone knows and what they hate me for, thinking it was Duck's fault I was humiliated, I told lies about him to the trucks. Everyone thinks I did it out of cruelty, but I still strongly believe my humiliation was down to him, despite what Gordon, James and Henry, now against me, said. But they soon found out what I told the trucks Duck said about them, and they were on my side again. I must say, though I hate steamies now, at the time, it actually felt nice to have them on my side.

So, as people also know, the Fat Controller sent Duck away. But later that day, things went wrong for me again. I was shunting trucks for Henry's train, and they all starting signing about me again – and Henry joined in. Hating him for making fun of me, I told lies about him too. But the Fat Controller found out and I was sent packing. Of course, everyone knows that too.

What no one knows, however, is the miserable time I had when I arrived home. Mr Matthews was very angry with me, as he had wanted to sell me to the Fat Controller for a big price. And since I was not wanted now, he hadn't made a penny. After being told off, I was sent to the sheds, where Sarah and Terry were, along with some new big strong steamies. They sneered when they saw me and kept giving me a hard time, like they used to, and also kept singing that stupid song the trucks sung, having somehow head it. They made my life there a misery again, and they didn't even shudder like Sarah and Terry when I told them they would be scrapped.

A year later, Mr Matthews heard from the Fat Controller. He needed an engine to work to work at his harbour, and as I was the only one available, the Fat Controller was prepared to give me another chance.

So after I was shipped to Sodor for a second time, upon arriving at the harbour, I went to work with Duck, as well as another engine, Percy. Everybody knows this, of course, and they know that I behaved badly again. Perhaps I would have behaved better, if Duck and Percy had been prepared to give me a second chance like the Fat Controller. But no. They let me know they didn't like me again, and refused to work with them. That proves how diesels are better than steamies; for steamies can work, but refuse to when they don't get their own way. I was none to happy to be working with them, but was prepared to. When they were finally made to go to work by the Fat Controller, I couldn't help myself, and began misbehaving again - which led to the Fat Controller sending back to England again, much to the anger of Mr Matthews, and my own misery, as I was made unwelcome by his steamies.

It certainly was the final chance the Fat Controller gave me. There would often be something wrong, and I would be sent back to Sodor – and I would misbehave, trying to show how better diesels are than steamies, resulting in me being sent back to England again, but soon going back to Sodor.

Eventually, however, Mr Matthews said he didn't want me back if I was this much trouble. He told the Fat Controller he could have me for free. He didn't care if he didn't get any money. He just didn't want me back. So the Fat Controller decided to jump at the chance of a free engine, even if it was troublesome, and because of that, I have been on Sodor ever since.

So that's how I've been spending my life on Sodor; being horrible to steamies. Every time I see them, I must be mean and nasty. Everybody knows me as Devious Diesel, so I must continue what I do and keep my title. I can't let anyone see how hurt I am, deep down inside my engine, due to my terrible past in England. I don't really get much fun out of being horrible to steamies, to be honest. It would have been much better for me if I had never been built.

**So that's the story. Again, sorry if Diesel is out of character. I just felt like making a story about his life before Sodor, explaining why he hates steam engines, and making steam engines the bad guys in the story.**

**Bye!**


End file.
